Darian chuckled – an eerie echo across the cave – and set one goblet carefully down on her flat stone bier beside her head, such that if she turned her face to the right she could just see it and smell it and breathe it. Dear gods, the tantalizing smell of rich, aged wine was going to her head. She felt faint. No water would slake her thirst: she wanted this wine, this wine only and no other.
“Please,” she begged again. “I must drink.”
Darian took a deep draught of his own blood-crimson wine and cocked a brow at her. “I do not understand. You requested wine, my lady, and I have presented you with an ample supply. Why do you not join me?”
She ground her teeth in frustration. That fragrance, oh, that aroma! Never before had she felt such a pull to one article of food. What had this bastard put into the drink to tempt her so? “I cannot. You have chained me!”
The next thing she knew, she was blinded by the warm slash of Darian’s wine thrown in her face. She gasped for air.
“You wanted a drink. There is your drink, bitch. You are my slave now, and my slave will do as I say.”
Roxanna willed herself not to cry. In her entire life, she had never cried. Not until this day. This monster, this bastard, was the only man alive who had seen her open tears. In the end, the pain and the humiliation overwrought her with emotion, and she expelled a breathless sob.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered. “Why me? What are you doing to me?”
“I warned you.” His voice was thunderous, formidable. “You must not ask such questions, lest you risk your own neck.”
She quivered and uttered nothing: it was a silent plea.
“Very well, then.” His tone had lowered to little more than a rumbling mutter. “I told you before my name is Darian Draconis. My surname – as well as my appearance – would speak clearly to my heritage. I am one of the last descendants of the shapeshifting sorcerers. My direct ancestors were given to the strain of dragons; thus, I possess the claws and the scales, and the fearsome strength and eyesight. But I am weakening by the decade, and I must find a partner, a true mate, who will bear my offspring, or the sorcery will be lost.”
He leisurely approached her stone table and picked up the full goblet by her head, flashing her a sardonic smile as he drained it before her eyes. He set the goblet back down in exactly the same place and resumed his story.
“Why you? – you demand to know. It was a fairly easy choice – that is, once I had spotted you. In flight over the wilderness of your kingdom, I espied you from above as you rode through your dark forests, pursuing a white hart. I knew instantly that you possessed the spirit that all my previous women had lacked. You had strength, you had fury, you had the draconian flame within you. And, as I pray to the gods that I am right, you would be the only one to survive this night to bear my child.”
But you said the other girls killed themselves…
“Aha, an interesting point,” he replied conversationally to her private thought. “And that is true. I did not lie to you in the least. Those lasses I took over the last few decades at first seemed strong enough, but I had overestimated them, and their strength had failed. At the first chance I gave them to have a choice, they chose death instead of me. They wanted the dagger over life.”
And so would I.
“I seriously doubt that, my lady.”
Her lips had grown cold and white. “I hate you.”
“See? This is excellent. Shall we continue?”
His friendly discourse was by no means a question. He proceeded to slash the shredded bits of her gown still hanging from her shoulders, and the fragments fluttered to the ground, leaving her completely nude.
Then he chanted something under his breath in the deep, guttural tones of his ancient tongue, and with a flick of his hands, Roxanna was lifted bodily into the air and flipped over, then set down again on the table with the steel cuffs locking back in place over her wrists. This time she was bent over the narrow end of the stone table with her ankles spread and latched securely at the corners near the floor; her distended breasts were smashed against the unforgiving surface of the marble. The position was starkly more humiliating than the first spread-eagle, for she felt a thousand times more vulnerable, more exposed, presenting her orifices without being able to see at all what was going to happen to her.
“Well, this is an improvement…but it could be better,” Darian noted, nodding sagely. He snapped his fingers, and this time the chains round her wrists rattled and groaned and then flew into the air to affix themselves to the crevices in the stone ceiling. Roxanna gasped and gave an involuntary cry as her arms were stretched up over her head, pulling her body in opposite directions with just enough force to strain her quaking muscles. The chains tightened one last time, and she felt her cuffed feet leave the ground. Her toes now dangled two inches or so above the solidity of the cave floor.
“Precisely what I wanted. My magic has not left me completely, after all,” said Darian.
There was a rustle of skin, and then an agonizing silence that lasted for eternity. Roxanna was too far stretched out to be able to strain away from whatever was coming for her.
Darian positioned himself at the girl’s buttocks, pausing to admire their finely sculpted beauty. He could not resist digging a hand into one of her cheeks and squeezing it; his claws left angry scratches across the firm flesh. Roxanna flinched and choked down a whimper.
Inspired, he seized the ruined sleeve of her gown from the pile of discarded clothing and ripped it in half. One part he used to wipe clean the slit of her vagina, making her shudder in spite of herself. With a low laugh he reached over and stuffed the soaking rag of velvet between her sore jaws. Roxanna moaned in futile protest at the taste of blood and fluids again on her tongue, but the sound was effectively muffled; and before she could spit it out, Darian had clamped the other half of velvet over her mouth and knotted it tightly behind her head.
“Now,” he cooed into her ear, “scream all you like, my love. I love to hear you scream into the taste of your own love juices. Go on and scream.”
Her green eyes burned. Bastard! I will not scream.
“We shall see.”
He returned to her rear and without further ceremony entered her from behind. Roxanna screamed.
Her canal was impossibly tight again even after its earlier abuse, and enthusiastically, Darian grabbed her by her voluptuous hips and drove himself deeper inside. He went at a steady pace, not furious but rather methodical, yet still faster than his previous rhythm.
Roxanna didn’t know what to make of the queasy feeling building up inside her at the pit of her stomach. Darian’s shaft – somehow rock hard again – taking her from behind stimulated her in places where she had not been touched before. If it was even possible, it felt as if he had grown on every side. The ribbed surface of his flesh inside her caressed her sensitive walls, rubbing every square inch again and again. She writhed and struggled to draw him in deeper despite herself and her own fear, but if Darian recognized her signals, he studiously ignored her. He lifted his left hand to molest her free breast and to tease the puckered nipple with his grazing claws, while he kept his right hand in an immovable grip on the curve of her waist to urge their rhythm on.
Darian had penetrated her so deeply now that with each upward thrust, Roxanna was lifted another three inches into the air, resting solely on the solid head of his penis. Her hole was straining even now to accomodate his ever increasing width with each new push inside her. The first time he had entered her, he had seemed just wide enough to cause discomfort to her dry and virgin womanhood; now he was swelling, pulsating, the diameter over two inches across. The head was an obscenely massive knot – even larger than it had been when it was gagging her throat – and it scraped against her womb and ripped past the sides of her walls every time he pulled out and rammed back in. There was something perversely titillating about the lips of her sex meeting his balls with each stroke, slapping against each other, creating a repetitive squirting sound.
Then without warning, he grunted and grabbed her hips again savagely with both hands and began to pump away with abandon. Roxanna was screeching and sobbing again into the gag for him to stop: it felt like he was shredding her arms from their sockets, pounding away at the wall of her cervix mercilessly. If he didn’t stop, she felt her womb would tear apart.
“Spread open wider, bitch,” he growled.
When she didn’t respond, he seized her by the upper portion of her thighs and parted the lips of her vagina wide for his invasion. There was another squelching sensation, and then a pop – and his balls were in.
Roxanna shrieked out every last breath she could muster. She didn’t know how much more of him she could take. The pain was bestial and surreal. Darian’s fingers were on her now, rubbing her clitoris back and forth at a furious rate, and once more her body betrayed her. This time she jerked violently and swayed from side to side, every muscle convulsing and screaming along with her at the blasting intensity of her first orgasm.
Simultaneously Darian let out a roar – a dragon’s roar – and plugged himself straight up into her womb, flooding her gates with the raging fire of his cum. Roxanna’s canal clamped down on him in perfect unison with the rhythm of his spurts, and as the pulsing of his semen inside her aroused her to an animal frenzy, her own tightness around him made his pleasure crest to a blinding ecstasy.
The quivering of his balls buried inside just past her entrance hurled Roxanna from her first orgasm into an even greater, more mind-blowing climax. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her mouth frothed over the gag and she screamed again and again.
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